Millennials

[BobMc]

I hired my 18yo son out of high school to work at the shop. He's 20 now and works his ass off and does good work. I hired an 18yo a couple weeks ago at the urging of his mother. I'm paying him minimum wage and have him on clean up detail. He wants to work on cars but as my son told him, "I didn't touch a car for six months after I was hired." The kid throws himself into whatever I tell him to clean up. I told the guys I think he's cleaning with his face cause he's head to toe grease when he's done.

There are kids that will work hard, as always.

[BmillsSkier]

u are a retard

ur either bmills or irul or that other fucking EC dweeb

eat a dick u coward

Drew, I'm touched. But unfortunately I don't have the time to dedicate to posting your mom's drivel.

[Rip'nStick]

Perfect just need a war and conscription and we are set.

Prob is Donny tried that but Kim JI won't take the bait

LionelHutz!

Did you take a break or are you new?

[abraham]

I think this one is new. Some Canadian lawyer rather than the EC poster with the freaky forehead avatar who we used to have.

[Rip'nStick]

Yeah it's increasingly difficult to have farm kids like me (not a millennial) work on a farm when you know that there is another career out there that can boost you into $100k+ by age 25. If you apply yourself and choose the right industry. But I understand what you are saying, plenty of kids staying home, not in university, playing GTA 5 with no work ethic.

What kind of farm or did I miss that? If your state is legal, weed grows like a weed and harvest is fun.

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[MagnificentUnicorn]

u are a retard

ur either bmills or irul or that other fucking EC dweeb

eat a dick u coward

You should be flattered that someone created an alias to mock you. It means you're an elite.

[goldengatestinx]

I hired my 18yo son out of high school to work at the shop. He's 20 now and works his ass off and does good work. I hired an 18yo a couple weeks ago at the urging of his mother. I'm paying him minimum wage and have him on clean up detail. He wants to work on cars but as my son told him, "I didn't touch a car for six months after I was hired." The kid throws himself into whatever I tell him to clean up. I told the guys I think he's cleaning with his face cause he's head to toe grease when he's done.

There are kids that will work hard, as always.

Hard working kids learned it from somewhere...hard working dad, mom, grandfather, uncle.

[old goat]

I worked summers at Great Lakes Steel Blast Furnace division in Detroit in the coal handling department. Minimum wage job which mainly consisted of shoveling coal dust that fell off the conveyor belts back on the conveyor belts and learning how to sleep standing up against a wall propped up by a shovel. One day 4 of us got bored and cleaned a tail pulley room down to the bare concrete--concrete that had not seen the light of day in at least 50 years (not there was any light of day down there). For our industrious efforts were assigned to us compressed air to blast caked on coal dust in the 8 40 foot high coal bins above the #1 coke plant which was shutting down. After we had accumulated a pile on the bottom of the bin the bin was emptied into the coke oven to be burned--we were working above a working coke oven. The job took 2 weeks, during which time the high temp in Detroit was 100F every day and the relative humidity 100%, but no rain. God knows what the temp was above that coke oven.

This story has a moral--if you work hard you will get to do more work. The work ethic is a plot dreamed up by capitalists to wring more wealth out of the flesh of the working class.

[stuckathuntermtn]

He talks to all the servants about Bernie, Trump, and Clinton...

[mecc69]

This story has a moral--if you work hard you will get to do more work. The work ethic is a plot dreamed up by capitalists to wring more wealth out of the flesh of the working class.

I guess I am technically a millennial, although an old one. I look at my supervisors, who presumably are Gen x'ers, and sometimes wonder aloud why they spend so much fucking time at work. It's like they don't know what else to do. One Ayn Rand devotee in particular likes to just find random shit other people don't seem to be doing and just starts doing it. On top of what actually needs to get done. (Same guy was not pleased with an intern last year. I pointed out that no one took point on making sure the guy knew what he was supposed to do. You know, train him. Surprise, with a little direction and coaching the "lazy millennial" intern is killing it his second summer.)

Boss said the other day "feels slow around here". Dude is still working 55+ hours a week I bet. The VP sent me an email at 3:52 in the morning the other day.

I've heard this from other "millennials" as well. "I'm done with my work in 8-9 hours, but get the stink eye if I don't put in an 11 hour day."

Most millennial I work with are tech savvy, get their shit done and get out.


Maybe it's not the millennials who have it wrong...

[highangle]

I worked summers at Great Lakes Steel Blast Furnace division in Detroit in the coal handling department. Minimum wage job which mainly consisted of shoveling coal dust that fell off the conveyor belts back on the conveyor belts and learning how to sleep standing up against a wall propped up by a shovel. One day 4 of us got bored and cleaned a tail pulley room down to the bare concrete--concrete that had not seen the light of day in at least 50 years (not there was any light of day down there). For our industrious efforts were assigned to us compressed air to blast caked on coal dust in the 8 40 foot high coal bins above the #1 coke plant which was shutting down. After we had accumulated a pile on the bottom of the bin the bin was emptied into the coke oven to be burned--we were working above a working coke oven. The job took 2 weeks, during which time the high temp in Detroit was 100F every day and the relative humidity 100%, but no rain. God knows what the temp was above that coke oven.

This story has a moral--if you work hard you will get to do more work. The work ethic is a plot dreamed up by capitalists to wring more wealth out of the flesh of the working class.

Jack London, Martin Eden

I can probably find the parable about 'passing coal' to quote for you, if you're not already familiar with it.

[old goat]

Jack London, Martin Eden

I can probably find the parable about 'passing coal' to quote for you, if you're not already familiar with it.

I tried to look up passing coal--no luck. Enlighten me..

[highangle]

My bad....It's John Barleycorn, not Martin Eden...



CHAPTER XX

THE jute mills failed of its agreement to in
crease my pay to a dollar and a quarter a
day, and I, a free-born American boy whose direct
ancestors had fought in all the wars from the
old pre-Revolutionary Indian wars down, exer
cised my sovereign right of free contract by quit
ting the job.

I was still resolved to settle down, and I looked
about me. One thing was clear. Unskilled
labor did n t pay. I must learn a trade, and I
decided on electricity. The need for electricians
was constantly growing. But how to become an
electrician? I had n t the money to go to a tech
nical school or university; besides, I did n t think
much of schools. I was a practical man in a prac
tical world. Also, I still believed in the old
myths which were the heritage of the American
boy when I was a boy.

A canal boy could become a president. Any
boy, who took employment with any firm, could,

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JOHN BARLEYCORN

by thrift, energy, and sobriety, learn the business
and rise from position to position until he was
taken in as a junior partner. After that the sen
ior partnership was only a matter of time. Very
often so ran the myth the boy, by reason of
his steadiness and application, married his em
ployer s daughter. By this time I had been en
couraged to such faith in myself in the matter of
girls that I was quite certain I would marry my
employer s daughter. There was n t a doubt of
it. All the little boys in the myths did it as soon
as they were old enough.

So I bade farewell forever to the adventure-
path, and went out to the power-plant of one of our
Oakland street-railways. I saw the superintend
ent himself, in a private office so fine that it almost
stunned me. But I talked straight up. I told
him I wanted to become a practical electrician,
that I was unafraid of work, that I was used to
hard work, and that all he had to do was look at
me to see I was fit and strong. I told him that I
wanted to begin right at the bottom and work up,
that I wanted to devote my life to this one occu
pation and this one employment.

The superintendent beamed as he listened. He
told me that I was the right stuff for success, and

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JOHN BARLEYCORN

that he believed in encouraging American youth
that wanted to rise. Why, employers were al
ways on the lookout for young fellows like me,
and alas, they found them all too rarely. My
ambition was fine and worthy, and he would see
to it that I got my chance. (And as I listened
with swelling heart, I wondered if it was his
daughter I was to marry.)

"Before you can go out on the road and learn
the more complicated and higher details of the
profession," he said, "you will, of course, have to
work in the car house with the men who install
and repair the motors. (By this time I was sure
that it was his daughter, and I was wondering
how much stock he might own in the company.)

"But," he said, "as you yourself so plainly
see, you could n t expect to begin as a helper to
the car house electricians. That will come when
you have worked up to it. You will really begin
at the bottom. In the car house your first em
ployment will be sweeping up, washing the win
dows, keeping things clean. And after you have
shown yourself satisfactory at that, then you may
become a helper to the car house electricians."

I did n t see how sweeping and scrubbing a
building was any preparation for the trade of

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JOHN BARLEYCORN

electrician; but I did know that in the books all
the boys started with the most menial tasks and
by making good ultimately won to the ownership
of the whole concern.

"When shall I come to work 2" I asked, eager
to launch on this dazzling career.

"But," said the superintendent, "as you and I
have already agreed, you.- must begin at the bot
tom. Not immediately can you in any capacity
enter the car house. Before that you must pass
through the engine room as an oiler."

My heart went down slightly and for the mo
ment, as I saw the road lengthen between his
daughter and me ; then it rose again. I would be
a* better electrician with knowledge of steam en
gines. As an oiler in the great engine room I was
confident that few things concerning steam would
escape me. Heavens! My career shone more
dazzling than ever.

"When shall I come to work 4 ?" I asked grate
fully.

"But," said the superintendent, "you could not
expect to enter immediately into the engine room.
There must be preparation for that. And through
the fire room, of course. Come, you see the mat
ter clearly, I know. And you will see that even

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JOHN BARLEYCORN

the mere handling of coal is a scientific matter
and not to be sneezed at. Do you know that we
weigh every pound of coal we burn*? Thus, we
learn the value of the coal we buy ; we know to a
tee the last penny of cost of every item of produc
tion, and we learn which firemen are the most
wasteful, which firemen, out of stupidity or care
lessness, get the least out of the coal they fire."
The superintendent beamed again. "You see
how very important the little matter of coal is,
and by as much as you learn of this little matter
you will become that much better a workman
more valuable to us, more valuable to yourself.
Now, are you prepared to begin 4 ?"

"Any time," I said valiantly. "The sooner the
better."

"Very well," he answered. "You will come
to-morrow morning at seven o clock."

I was taken out and shown my duties. Also, I
was told the terms of my employment a ten-hour
day, every day in the month including Sundays
and holidays, with one day off each month, with
a salary of thirty dollars a month. It was n t ex
citing. Years before, at the cannery, I had
earned a dollar a day for a ten-hour day. I con
soled myself with the thought that the reason my

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JOHN BARLEYCORN

earning capacity had not increased with my years
and strength was because I had remained an un
skilled laborer. But it was different now. I
was beginning to work for skill, for a trade, for
career and fortune and the superintendent s
daughter.

And I was beginning in the right way right
at the beginning. That was the thing. I was
passing coal to the firemen, who shoveled it into
the furnaces where its energy was transformed into
steam, which, in the engine room, was transformed
into the electricity with which the electricians
worked. This passing of coal was surely the very
beginning . . . unless the superintendent should
take it into his head to send me to work in the
mines from which the coal came in order to get a
completer understanding of the genesis of elec
tricity for street railways.

Work! I, who had worked with men, found
that I did n t know the first thing about real work.
A ten-hour day! I had to pass coal for the day
and night shifts, and, despite working through the
noon-hour, I never finished my task before eight
at night. I was working a twelve- to thirteen-
hour day, and I was n t being paid overtime as in
the cannery.

192



JOHN BARLEYCORN

I might as well give the secret away right here.
I was doing the work of two men. Before me,
one mature able-bodied laborer had done the day
shift and another equally mature able-bodied la
borer had done the night shift. They had re
ceived forty dollars a month each. The superin
tendent, bent on an economical administration,
had persuaded me to do the work of both men
for thirty dollars a month. I thought he was
making an electrician of me. In truth and fact,
he was saving fifty dollars a month operating ex
penses to the company.

[highangle]

But I did n t know I was displacing two men.
Nobody told me. On the contrary, the super
intendent warned everybody not to tell me. How
valiantly I went at it that first day. I worked at
top speed, filling the iron wheelbarrow with coal,
running it on the scales and weighing the load,
then trundling it into the fire room and dumping
it on the plates before the fires.

Work! I did more than the two men whom
I had displaced. They had merely wheeled in
the coal and dumped it on the plates. But while
I did this for the day coal, the night coal I had to
pile against the wall of the fire room. Now the
fire room was small. It had been planned for a

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JOHN BARLEYCORN

night coal-passer. So I had to pile the night coal
higher and higher, buttressing up the heap with
stout planks. Toward the top of the heap I had
to handle the coal a second time, tossing it up
with a shovel.

I dripped with sweat, but I never ceased from
my stride, though I could feel exhaustion coming
on. By ten o clock in the morning, so much of
my body s energy had I consumed, I felt hungry
and snatched a thick double-slice of bread and
butter from my dinner pail. This I devoured,
standing, grimed with coal dust, my knees trem
bling under me. By eleven o clock, in this fashion,
I had consumed my whole lunch. But what of
it? I realized that it would enable me to con
tinue working through the noon hour. And I
worked all afternoon. Darkness came on, and I
worked under the electric lights. The day fire
man went off and the night fireman came on. I
plugged away.

At half-past eight, famished, tottering, I washed
up, changed my clothes, and dragged my weary
body to the car. It was three miles to where I
lived, and I had received a pass with the stipula
tion that I could sit down as long as there were
no paying passengers in need of a seat. As I

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JOHN BARLEYCORN

sank into a corner outside seat I prayed that no
passenger might require my seat. But the car
filled up, and, half way in, a woman came on
board, and there was no seat for her. I started to
get up, and to my astonishment found that I could
not. With the chill wind blowing on me, my
spent body had stiffened into the seat. It took
me the rest of the run in to unkink my complain
ing joints and muscles and get into a standing po
sition on the lower step. And when the car
stopped at my corner I nearly fell to the ground
when I stepped off.

I hobbled two blocks to the house and limped
into the kitchen. While my mother started to
cook I plunged into bread and butter; but before
my appetite was appeased, or the steak fried, I
was sound asleep. In vain my mother strove to
shake me awake enough to eat the meat. Failing
in this, with the assistance of my father she man
aged to get me to my room, where I collapsed dead
asleep on the bed. They undressed me and cov
ered me up. In the morning came the agony of
being awakened. I was terribly sore, and worst
of all my wrists were swelling. But I made up
for my lost supper, eating an enormous break
fast, and when I hobbled to catch my car I car-

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JOHN BARLEYCORN

ried a lunch twice as big as the one the day be
fore.

Work! Let any youth just turned eighteen
try to out-shovel two man-grown coal-shovelers.
Work ! Long before midday I had eaten the last
scrap of my huge lunch. But I was resolved to
show them what a husky young fellow determined
to rise could do. The worst of it was that my
wrists were swelling and going back on me.
There are few who do not know the pain of walk
ing on a sprained ankle. Then imagine the pain
of shoveling coal and trundling a loaded wheel
barrow with two sprained wrists.

Work! More than once I sank down on the
coal where no one could see me, and cried with
rage, and mortification, and exhaustion, and
despair. That second day was my hardest, and
all that enabled me to survive it and get in the
last of the night coal at the end of thirteen hours
was the day fireman, who bound both my wrists
with broad leather straps. So tightly were they
buckled that they were like slightly flexible plaster
casts. They took the stresses and pressures which
thitherto had been borne by my wrists, and they
were so tight that there was no room for the in
flammation to rise in the sprains.

196




Work! Let any youth just turned eighteen try to out-shovel two man-
grown coal-shovelers !



JOHN BARLEYCORN

And in this fashion I continued to learn to be
an electrician. Night after night I limped home,
fell asleep before I could eat my supper, and was
helped into bed and undressed. Morning after
morning, always with huger lunches in my dinner
pail, I limped out of the hpuse on my way to
work.

I no longer read my library books. I made no
dates with the girls. I was a proper work-beast.
I worked, and ate, and slept, while my mind slept
all the time. The whole thing was a nightmare.
I worked every day, including Sunday, and I
looked far ahead to my one day off at the end of
a month, resolved to lie abed all that day and just
sleep and rest up.

The strangest part of this experience was that
I never took a drink nor thought of taking a drink.
Yet I knew that men under hard pressure almost
invariably drank. I had seen them do it, and
in the past had often done it myself. But so
sheerly non-alcoholic was I that it never entered
my mind that a drink might be good for me. I
instance this to show how entirely lacking from
my make-up was any predisposition toward alco
hol. And the point of this instance is that later
on, after more years had passed, contact with

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JOHN BARLEYCORN

John Barleycorn at last did induce in me the al
coholic desire.

I had often noticed the day fireman staring at
me in a curious way. At last, one day, he spoke.
He began by swearing me to secrecy. He had
been warned by the superintendent not to tell me,
and in telling me he was risking his job. He told
me of the day coal-passer and the night coal-
passer, and of the wages they had received. I
was doing for thirty dollars a month what they
had received eighty dollars for doing. He would
have told me sooner, the fireman said, had he not
been so certain that I would break down under
the work and quit. As it was, I was killing my
self, and all to no good purpose. I was merely
cheapening the price of labor, he argued, and
keeping two men out of a job.

Being an American boy, and a proud American
boy, I did not immediately quit. This was foolish
of me, I know; but I resolved to continue the
work long enough to prove to the superintendent
that I could do it without breaking down. Then
I would quit, and he would realize what a fine
young fellow he had lost.

All of which I faithfully and foolishly did.
I worked on until the time came when I got in

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JOHN BARLEYCORN

the last of the night coal by six o clock. Then I
quit the job of learning electricity by doing more
than two men s work for a boy s wages, went
home, and proceeded to sleep the clock around.

Fortunately, I had not stayed by the job long
enough to injure myself though I was compelled
to wear straps on my wrists for a year afterward.
But the effect of this work orgy in which I had
indulged was to sicken me with work. I just
would n t work. The thought of work was re
pulsive. I did n t care if I never settled down.
Learning a trade could go hang. It was a whole
lot better to royster and frolic over the world in
the way I had previously done. So I headed out
on the adventure-path again, starting to tramp
East by beating my way on the railroads.

[old goat]

cool. I've only read a little Jack London. Hiking the Muir trail solo, came south over Forester Pass in September in a snow storm, passed a guy who told me that the year before 4 people had perished in the same place during the same week in a similar snow storm. I had no tent--only a tarp. And all i had to entertain myself with was an anthology of Jack London. "To Build a Fire" weighed heavily on my mind. Spoiler alert--I survived.

[DBdude]

Yeah it's increasingly difficult to have farm kids like me (not a millennial) work on a farm when you know that there is another career out there that can boost you into $100k+ by age 25. If you apply yourself and choose the right industry. But I understand what you are saying, plenty of kids staying home, not in university, playing GTA 5 with no work ethic.

What kind of farm or did I miss that? If your state is legal, weed grows like a weed and harvest is fun.

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help me out, what careers can you have at 25 to make six figures?

[wooley12]

In Seattle, 3% of the millenials make $300k+. There are probably quite a few slackers that can only manage to grab $150.

[alias_rice]

cool. I've only read a little Jack London. Hiking the Muir trail solo, came south over Forester Pass in September in a snow storm, passed a guy who told me that the year before 4 people had perished in the same place during the same week in a similar snow storm. I had no tent--only a tarp. And all i had to entertain myself with was an anthology of Jack London. "To Build a Fire" weighed heavily on my mind. Spoiler alert--I survived.

Caught the dog huh?

[wicked_sick]

help me out, what careers can you have at 25 to make six figures?

Some IT positions can bring that in.

[dtown]

In Seattle, 3% of the millenials make $300k+. There are probably quite a few slackers that can only manage to grab $150.

Everyone thinks of millennials as being the 20-25 yr olds but they range into mid 30's so my guess is the few making $300k+ are in the 30-35 range, which is still good jack

[saukit]

Some IT positions can bring that in.

If you enter the trades straight out of high school you can easily clear $100k plus before 25. A few years of apprenticeship, get your journeyman card, work tons of OT.

[old goat]

If you enter the trades straight out of high school you can easily clear $100k plus before 25. A few years of apprenticeship, get your journeyman card, work tons of OT.

and destroy your body, keep working because you have no retirement

[wooley12]

Spoken like a true RWM. Not if you play it right. Why do you hate your mechanic and lineman?

[farmer]

eat a dick u coward

Don't talk to your mother like that Andrew.
If she had done that, she would have done all of us a favor and swallowed you.

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[DBdude]

Some IT positions can bring that in.

tell me about it - I am in IT and make six figures after 20 years. it requires travel. very few that are not a manger makes six figures in my market. certainly no 25 year olds

I don't live in a major metropolitan area...